Drabbles and Drugs
by Alitote
Summary: From disgustingly cute to hilarious or dramatic, this fic will have it all. A collection of little ficlets for every character I so choose to write about (might be a bit Weasley Twin-centric but who cares, they deserve it). Rated T for freedom.
1. A Cough

**A Cough**

It's not during the Halloween feast that he notices, or when George mysteriously disappears during and after dinner, it's when Fred wakes late in the night as his brother climbs meekly and clumsily into his bed hacking up a storm behind a hand clamped tightly to his face.

"George?" He slurs out sleepily, eyes cracking open as he turns to look at his brother, who collapses next to him coughing hard enough his body jerks with the movement, "Hey, you okay?" He props himself up on an elbow and watches as George tears his throat apart and possibly gives himself whiplash as a result.

With teary eyes from the force of coughing, George silently shakes his head and twists Fred's blanket around himself up to the chin, breathing heavily. Fred reaches out to touch his forehead which is hotter than an iron and comes away with his hand drenched in sweat.

"George you're burnin' up." Fred hisses in the darkness, wary of waking anyone else in the room. George shakes his head tiredly, nestling into the pillows, "George come on, let's take you to the hospital wing-"

"N-no… need… need sleep…" It sounded as if he were drunk, and honestly Fred would have laughed if the cause behind his brother's words wasn't a high fever.

"George," Fred prodded his brother's side, "George come on-"

"Shh… mum'll wake up." George whispers, sluggishly moving to grip at the edge of his pillow and nuzzle deeper into it, "She won-won't let me sleep here… Here without medicine… I don't like medicine Fred."

His brother was delirious, he had to be. That was the only reason he would have climbed into Fred's bed to sleep when he was so sick, something they hadn't done since they were alot younger. When was the last time anyway? Age nine with the Flu? No… no it was when Fred had gotten a simple cold and they were eleven. Percy had walked in on them that morning, finding Fred in George's bed instead of his own and holding tight to him like he was a teddy bear instead of his twin.

_"You best stop that before you go to Hogwarts," _Their older brother had snickered as they woke to his entrance, _"Only children can't sleep in their own beds, you'd probably get sent home because they'd think you were to young for something as big kid as school."_

Fred cringed now, thinking about it. Normally he and George would never have listened to a prat like Percy but it was a month before school would _finally_ start for them and gosh darn it even they got nervous once in a while! Coupling that with the fact that Fred already felt so horrible thanks to the churning of his stomach and the heat of his forehead and it was easy to talk George into ageeing they couldn't sleep in each other's beds anymore.

Which was to bad for poor George because he quickly came down with what Fred had caught, and spent the first time either of them could remember dealing with the cold alone in his own bed with no one to complain to or hug as his stomach threatened to reject whatever had been forced into it or his head got ready to explode it hurt so bad.

And now, five years later here he was curled up in Fred's bed at Hogwarts coughing violently into his hand and delirious with a fever. All he wanted was some sleep, and some sleep with something familiar and safe beside him when even his own body was hurting him.

Fred groaned, listening as George had begun to snore, what to do? He could just let him sleep here and walk him down in the morning, or he could bully the poor tired thing into going now and risk making a scene as George, unaware of where he really was apparantly, would start loudly protesting and probably wake everyone up.

"H-hey Freddie?" George croaked an octave or two to loud.

Maybe he'd wake everyone up anyway Fred groaned internally.

"Fred…" George poked his brother's arm, "Fred I don't feel good…"

"I can see that George." Fred said patiently, smoothing his brother's bangs out of his face, "We should go to the hospital wing so we can get you better don't you think?"

George appeared to consider it, and as Fred squinted through the darkness he thought he could see how fevered and dull George's eyes looked. Then George shook his head and curled possibly tighter into the sheets, "No… no I don't want the medicine… mum makes yucky medicine."

Fred snorted before he could stop himself, neither of them had used the word "Yucky" since they were eight.

"Alright, alright," Fred sighed, to tired to really move anyway. He laid out on his back, getting comfortable all over again now that half his space is occupied by another and closed his eyes. He'd just begun to drift when shaky fingers latched onto his arm and George pressed against him, coughing weakly as he fell asleep and resting his head against Fred's shoulder.

The next morning Lee would get up, walk across the room towards the bathroom and double back upon seeing both Weasleys in Fred's bed, George holding tight to him as if he were a security blanket and his face dripping in sweat as he breathed heavily. He'd stare at the two a moment, noticing how Fred had somehow intertwined his hand with George's in their sleep and it seemed to reassure his brother.

Then of course he'd poke Fred in the eye until he woke so they could take George to the hospital wing.


	2. Lost Privileges

**Or, Why George carries the Money**

"Oi Fred!" Ron Weasley called from a ways down the street of Hogsmeade. His elder brother stopped short in his tracks, turning to see who had called to him and frowned in annoyance when he saw it was his (annoying) younger brother.

"What?" He said rather coldly, gathering his coat closer to his neck to fight the sudden gust of wind to whip past.

"Can Harry an' I borrow a few Galleons?" Ron asked, hurrying to close the difference between the two on the street.

"No."

"Oh come on!" Ron whined, "We'd pay you back! You know we would!"

"No."

"Why not?" Ron snarled.

"Well," Fred sighed as Harry caught up to Ron and stood between the brothers, "First and foremost, I don't lend money to people. Period. I need that money, and that money is mine. People don't really pay me back I've found."

"But we would!" Ron groaned, "Harry would pay back half!"

"Don't get me involved!" Harry scoffed, holding his hands up in defense, "I just walked up to watch, I didn't want to join."

Ron scowled at his best friend, looking and feeling a bit betrayed. Fred snorted and rolled his eyes, pulling his Gryffindor scarf tighter around his neck as he did so.

"Secondly, I don't have any on me." He continued, talking in a bit of a lower voice.

Ron snorted, "Liar! You an' George have been turnin' a real profit with yer Weasley Wizarding Wheezes haven't you? How much have you got really?"

"None." Fred scowled, "You can't borrow any money-I don't have any, and I wouldn't if I had any."

"Whatever." Ron rolled his eyes, "I'll just ask George then-maybe he's feeling a bit more charitable than you." Turning to go Ron paused as Fred let out a rather obnoxious snicker.

"George is the _reason_ I haven't got any money on me Ron." He laughed, "He definitely wont be lending money to anyone-especially people who wont be able to pay him back."

"Harry can pay back half."

"Why am I involved here?!" Harry asked, but unfortunately he was ignored.

"Half isn't good enough fer dear Georgie Ron. He'll say no."

"Really? You sure." Ron sneered, eyebrow rising in contempt.

"Yeah."

"Willing to wager that?"

Fred frowned, "You don't have money."

"But you do, you liar." Ron said, "If you wont be a good brother and just _lend_ me some, then I'll take it from you. Using the only game you can't resist."

Harry watched a nerve twitch in Fred's neck as a rather dark shadow passed across his face.

"We've taught you to well…" Fred sighed, crossing his arms, "How much?"

"Ten Galleons."

"What do you need to buy with Ten Galleons?!" Fred cried.

Ron shrugged, "Stuff… Five is forr Harry."

"Thanks Ron." Harry smirked, not expecting this level of generosity.

"That way we can buy it together."

"Ah…" Harry sighed, realizing "generosity" was to strong a term here.

Fred snorted, "Fine then, but Harry's going to have to pay back all ten when you lose Ron."

"Why me?!" Harry asked again, and again he was ignored.

"There he is!" Ron said suddenly, pointing behind Fred and towards the corner of the street, where everyone could see the second Weasley twin making his way towards them carrying a shoulder bag and looking confused.

"And what's going on here?" He asked as he reached them, "Fred I thought we were gonna meet in the Three Broomsticks."

"We are." Fred sighed, "I was just dealing with a leech problem."

"Leech?" George frowned, looking between Ron and Harry, "Harry doesn't need money." Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation, not bothering to fight the idiocy here anymore.

"Not Harry George, Ron's just needs some money." Fred sighed, "And I can't lend him any."

"Yes, I know you can't." George said rather coldly, giving his twin a sharp look, "And no, Ron you can't have any from me either."

"Ha!" Fred laughed, thumping Ron on the shoulder, "Have Harry pay us by Tuesday!"

"Oh come on!" Ron cried, "You two have plenty of money!"

"And we need every knut." George said, turning to go, "Anyway, we need to be off. Sorry Ron, better luck next time."

As they watched the two walk away, Harry frowned as a new thought entered his mind.

"Hey!" He called, chasing after the twins (and nearly slipping on the icy walkway).

"What now?" Fred groaned.

"So, you two have been succesfull at this joke shop buisness right?"

"Yes…" The two answered together.

"So you have a ton of money right?"

"Yeah…"

Harry turned to Fred, raising an eyebrow, "Then why don't you have any money on you?"

Fred coughed rather awkwardly and turned to look at George, as if silently asking how they should answer.

George didn't meet his eye however and said without missing a beat, "He's the worst money manager I've ever seen-if I let him hold _any_ of our profits we'd be ruined by Tuesday."

"Oi!"

"It's true."

"Is not!"

"Do you remember what happened the last time I gave you the money?" George snapped, sounding in that moment eerily similar to their mother.

"Yeah…" Fred said rather slowly.

"Do you remember what you bought on a whim, _with all the money?_"

"It was a good idea!" Fred argued, "We could have-"

"Blown our noses off and sat in a pile of ash and broken dreams!" George cried, pulling his shoulder bag closer to himself, "You lost your right to the access of our money that night and since then we've flourished economically. You're welcome."

Harry and Ron looked between the two, eyes wide with curiosity.

"What did he buy?" Ron asked.

"Don't." Fred snapped to his twin, who smiled rather darkly back.

"He bought fifty cases of Filibuster Fireworks in the hopes of experimenting with them so they could do tricks for him before exploding in people's faces-a sort of defense against bullies toy that would go very, very wrong I'm sure."

Fred's eyes were wide and shiny, "Why are you so cruel to my dreams?" He hissed.

"Because your dreams nearly killed us." George said patiently, as if he were speaking to a child, "And it's not all your dreams, just that one."

"I will make a firework product George! You can't stop me!" Fred declared rather loudly, drawing a few stares.

"Sure, sure." George sighed, "And in the meantime, can we go? I don't want to be late to showing those first years our new stuff."

"Yeah sure," Fred said, deflating his anger and passion, "See you two, and don't forget to pay up on Tuesday!"

"Harry wont!" Ron called.

Harry turned and smacked him.


End file.
